


Hit with a Brick

by Alithea



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-29
Updated: 2010-01-29
Packaged: 2017-10-06 19:35:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alithea/pseuds/Alithea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post EW. Nichol finally gets what he always wanted, and then he realizes that he didn't want that at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hit with a Brick

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jilly-chan (slightlyjillian)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/slightlyjillian/gifts).



"Yes."

The word spread out across the space between them and then, engulfed him with a cold shiver he had not felt in years. Not since that day on Barge, when he was utterly disgraced, had he felt so shakily aware of his circumstances.

He stammered, "I-I'll pick you up at...eight?"

She smiled. It was a slow slinking thing that made his palms sweat and he prayed to whatever god would listen that he was not turning bright red at that very moment.

"Eight is perfect," she stated calmly. "Until then."

As she stalked off towards her office he tried to regain his sense of dignity. It was a gift. A very large, and, possibly, given out of pity gift that he never thought he would ever get, and yet there it was, still in his mind like a gentle tic, the 'yes'.

Finally he managed to let the joy that was too shocked to express itself escape in the form of a rather smug smile that no one could possibly rip from his face.

"You, cheeky boy."

He stopped dead in his tracks at the sound of the extreme tone of the voice behind him. It was the one thing that would threaten his now chipper mood. He turned on his heels to view the all too ecstatic expression of wonder on the young woman's face.

She grinned so wide and toothily he could feel his soul about to be devoured. She bounded up to him.

"Oh dearest, Nichol, I am quite impressed," she said.

"Is that so," he stated as coolly as he could. He could not let her ruin this for him. It was so easy for her to turn something like this into a misery.

"I never thought you'd have the guts, but congratulations. A fallen soldier like you rising through the ashes into good graces once again. It's a fairytale, Nichol."

"Dorothy-"

"Don't fret. Don't even worry. There is nothing I could do to ruin this moment for you." She was almost indignant, "Why would I even dare?"

A dark brown eyebrow rose in response and he shook his head. He refused to get into it with her. She was well nigh impossible to best and he had tried for years to make the attempt. But that was why they were still friends. The challenge to keep up with each other and the base fact that they were both regarded with a slight bead of resented animosity, glossed over with sometimes extreme politeness that could make even Dorothy shudder. They were outsiders held firmly together by their past mistakes.

Tides were changing though. Over the years in the Preventor halls together, it was becoming evident that forgiveness was forth coming. They had served their time, as it were, and were not quite as unpopular as they had been. Though their outward personalities made it difficult for them to be completely likable to all, they at least had the passing notion of being redeemed.

Nichol was seconds from continuing back to his desk when the platinum blonde arched a pleasantly forked eyebrow. He waited a beat and then could no longer control himself.

"What," his temper flared in is voice.

She pursed her lips and then asked very calmly, but instinctively conspiratorially, "What are you going to wear when you take the lady out tonight?"

His breath caught in his throat, and that was it. The happy feeling was gone. The joy was killed when it struck him... It was a date. He would want to, maybe, make an impression. He might want to dress in something that was not his Preventor uniform, or a rough pair of jeans and a flannel shirt. And he had no accounting for taste, Dorothy reminded him of that every time they went out to a bar or club together.

"Well, that settles it then," she said with the kind of devious grin he had come to fear, "I guess you have no choice."

"What?" He could only seem to hear his heart pounding in his head. It was a date, a date! A date with the lady. "What was I thinking?"

She rolled her eyes, "Good lord, Nichol pull your self together and come with me. I will not let you blow this opportunity on your idiotic notions of low self esteem."

"Where are we going?"

A spark of pure almost giddy joy lit in her stormy gray eyes, "Shopping, of course."

A miserable groan leapt to his throat.

The shopping trip was less painful than he had expected. Dorothy actually managed to find him decent clothing that did not have any threat of emasculating him. The shirt was cotton and a good solid color of blue, and the pants and the jacket suited him neatly. She gave him a hard time for thinking she would try and put him into something silly like a pink silk shirt, and he grimaced.

It was the next bit he had a problem with.

"And now... you get a haircut."

"What? Why? What's wrong with my hair? She didn't seem to have a problem with it when I asked her out," he defended.

She brought her hand up to touch his thick dark hair which was getting long in the back, all his tight wiry curls misbehaving and jutting out in whatever direction they pleased. She seemed to linger there deep in some far off thought, and then her eyes narrowed and she shook her head.

"Sorry Nicky dear...But you need a haircut and a wash. Trust me it will do you good."

She trotted off down the street and left him standing alone with his shopping bags. After a brief second of stubborn refusal to concede to a haircut he released a long winded sigh and bounded after her.

The haircut wasn't as bad as he thought. Dorothy took the hairdresser aside and gave the gal implicit instructions. And while he was sure that the young woman did not want to be told how to do her job she seemed to concede.

He came out of the salon (he still resented being taken to a hair salon instead of a barber), with his hair washed and neatly trimmed. All the wiry curls at the back of his neck were behaving themselves, and oddly enough he got away with keeping his slight sideburns. It shocked him because of the way Dorothy always remarked on them. She said she hated them.

"I never said I hated them Nicky... I said I loathed them. And I still do, but... I can't exactly give you a complete makeover, she obviously said yes for a reason. So there must be some redeeming quality to your look. I'm just-"

"Just?"

"I'm just cleaning you up." She smiled proudly.

"Lovely."

They left so that Nichol could ready himself at his humble apartment, quickly dismissing any of Dorothy's offers to help him, and especially neglecting the offer to take her car. There just was no way he would take a date out in that giant yellow car. It looked like a banana slug to him, even if it was a luxury vehicle. She pouted at him for a second and then waved him off, leaving for a night out of her own.

He looked himself over before he stepped out of the door. He wished he wasn't so nervous. He wished he could be suave and cool. He was out of his league and he knew it, but he was going to try.

He reached the Lady's expansive house promptly at eight o'clock in his rather classic pickup.

The conversation on the ride to the restaurant was pleasant. He managed not to stare at her too much, focusing on the road, so as not to run them into a ditch. As they spoke Nichol found himself shocked to learn that the Lady had a fascination for older and classic cars. And in between the short conversation was a silence that, though he wanted to, did not immediately fill.

He had joined the Preventors at Lady Une's personal invitation. After his disgrace he went back to Earth and took up restoring one of his family's older houses. The outdoor work was an excellent outlet for his bitterness towards everything that had happened. It gave him pause to think, and he realized how utterly selfish he was, but still had absolutely no apologies for it. He never understood why he had accepted the position, but after he had he was glad he did.

She never really forgave him, because he did not ask for her forgiveness. He thought he was in the right, how could he apologize for that. Still to that very day he had not gone to her and asked her for anything but his paycheck, and now this date. He wondered if her saying yes, was her sly way of granting something he just could not ask for.

It was fine for those that had heard of his past to finally come around and treat him better, but he would be damned if he was going to step up to a soapbox and express how sorry he was. That was beneath him, and only Dorothy really seemed to understand that.

His truck rumbled to halt as they reached the restaurant. He chucked the valet his keys and muttered something to him about not messing with the seat or the mirrors.

The Lady graciously took his arm as they entered the fancy establishment.

Nichol did not hate fancy restaurants. He understood the need and could live with having to foot the hefty bill. However, he was not exactly someone who knew a good four star restaurant from a bad four star restaurant, and so, had allowed Dorothy to make reservations for him.

"That's quaint, they have a dance floor," the lady observed as they were ushered to their table.

He felt his body temperature rise slightly and tugged uncomfortably at his collar.

Damn that woman, he thought to himself, smiling best he could as he took his seat, I'll get her for this.

Dancing...it had to be a place with dancing. He knew Dorothy was being too nice to him. And dancing... He couldn't dance. He moved like the Frankenstein Monster, stiff and terribly ridged. But amid his rage for being set up so cruelly he had to wonder, did the Lady like to dance?

The waiter came up to the table suddenly and pressed for drink orders. Lady Une ordered a glass of pinot noir, and he ruggedly chose a brown ale.

"I'm surprised you picked a place like this," the Lady commented, that slow grin edging at the corner of her lips.

"I'm not a total barbarian. I can have taste if I want to," he replied, thankful that he hadn't completely lost his voice.

"I see." She was eyeing the dance floor.

He felt his breath seize.

She grinned almost playfully, "You don't dance do you?"

"I-"

"I like ballroom dancing."

"I mean if you wanted-"

"But I can see that it might make you a tad uncomfortable."

He grimaced and nodded. The waiter returned with their drinks and he was overjoyed. They ordered and once again comfortable conversation seemed to find its way back to them.

It was all the power of the Lady. He knew that. He felt it deep in his bones, and that was why he had so admired her as a leader. She could read people. She knew how to drive a conversation. He only felt a bit out of place because he did not seem to have any control over what was transpiring.

The food arrived. They ate. He was surprised at how much he actually enjoyed his meal. He was surprised at how much she actually seemed to be enjoying herself. But still through it all he could feel a hammer fall coming. He tried not to let that premonition spoil his mood, but then after the dessert arrived he had to ask the one question he knew he shouldn't.

"What made you say 'yes' to this evening," he almost regretted it the moment it left his lips.

"That you finally asked me."

He was not expecting that. He wasn't sure how to take it.

"But if I asked you again-"

"Are you," she smiled. She took his shocked silence as a 'no'. "Nichol, you... are a bittersweet boy, full of surprises."

Boy... That word was not in the least encouraging.

"If you asked me again...I am afraid, I would have to say, 'no'."

He would have asked why if it were not so very apparent. She was his superior after all. Eyebrows would raise and questions would certainly be asked, even if he quit, and he could not simply quit working as a Preventor. He enjoyed it too much.

The rejection still hit him a little hard and his palms began to sweat and then she began to speak again and as the words collected in his ears he realized something...something he had greatly over looked.

He chuckled, "I'm a bit dense aren't I?"

"I would not say so," the Lady replied. "I would say that like all people you just need to be made aware."

"Pointed in the right direction as it were?"

"If you insist. This has been a lovely evening, Nichol. I have really enjoyed myself."

He grinned. That was all he needed, even if he did feel like he had lost some sort of cosmic bet.

After he left the Lady at her house he took a solemn drive. He went up into the hills and then came back down again. He drove along the city streets and then to the Preventor offices. After all that driving he stopped at his house.

He had to think about what he had just realized. The Lady played things so coolly. Her words were so tactfully aware of everything he was not and he hated it. Beads of anger cropped up around his ears making them burn and then he thought of Dorothy.

He ground his teeth.

There was nothing like a swift kick to the head to make one think straight, to make one see clearly. He was still indignant about it. He wanted to scream until he was hoarse, but swallowed it all down and tried to think of what he would do when he next saw the blonde goddess.

"Damned women," he whispered.

She was waiting for him and he did not show any surprise as he bounded up to the door of his apartment. She was grinning as if she were about lay out an attack, but he wouldn't allow it.

"Any reason why I should find you here," he asked.

"Just wondered about your evening dear."

He moved closer to her, dark eyes a bit hard. "At this moment you are a terrible liar."

"Am I?"

He nodded and opened the door. She followed him in.

"You are a deceitful, plotting wench," he said coolly as the door shut.

She stared wide eyed at him, mouth slightly agape.

He continued, "And... you've been hiding things from me. I thought we were friends."

"Oh please Nicky-"

"Don't try and coo your way into forgiveness. I'm not letting you off so easy."

Her eyes narrowed and she folded her arms over her chest, "You dare. I don't even know what it is you are thinking, but you, Nichol, are a selfish man. You're unaware of everything but yourself and what you perceive as your wants. You never look beyond your nose to see exactly what's before you. If you did, you wouldn't be such a bastard."

"Isn't that why you like me?"

He was stronger than he usually was. There was something driving him that he could not just toss aside. He'd just been rejected by the Lady, which he knew he was going to get. But once the light bulb went on and he realized the truth he wanted nothing more than to weed it out and get everything laid out for all to see.

She moved towards the door and he stopped her.

"Do stop being stubborn, Dotty dear, I know very well how hard it is for you, but... you can't get passed this."

"And what am I trying to pass," she asked with a sad chuckle.

"This."

And he pulled her into him and kissed her as hard as he could, until he realized that she actually wasn't fighting him. They pulled apart for a second.

"You cheeky boy," she whispered with a devilish smirk, exceedingly pleased.

He arched an eyebrow and sneered slightly.

"However did you come to this conclusion," she asked.

"Anvil to the head."

"Remind me to thank the Lady."

He shook his head and pulled her in to her kiss again, but softly... the way he wanted.

End.


End file.
